The Long Walk

by Stephen King

It’s gonna rain pretty soon. The guy with the radio says it’s gonna shit potatoes pretty quick.

LOL

The whole Walk seemed nothing but one looming question mark. He told himself that a thing like this must have some deep meaning.

The scary thing would be that it doesn’t. Knowing King, it probably doesn’t.

“Oh, pickles,” McVries said.

Stealing this phrase.

For no reason Garraty could put a finger on, he felt as if he had just walked through a Shirley Jackson short story.

He wondered how people could ride over this road all the other days of the year and not see the pattern of life and death in that white paint. Or did they see, after all?

“Well, Cathy’s pregnant right now. She said we should wait until we had enough in the bank to pay for the delivery. When we got up to seven hundred, she said go, and we went. She caught pregnant in no time at all.”

LOL

“Staying alive hardly qualifies as a hobby.” “I don’t know about that. How about skin divers? Big-game hunters? Mountain climbers? Or even some half-witted millworker whose idea of a good time is picking fights on Saturday night? All of those things reduce staying alive to a hobby. Part of the game.”

two of the biggest, meanest-looking soldiers you ever saw were standing on the porch. Man, they were so ugly they could have stopped clocks.

LOL